


The Night That Everything Changed

by ariesjinx



Series: The Unexpected Family of Harry Potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariesjinx/pseuds/ariesjinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night of drowning guilt plus one creature inheritance plus a run in with a ex-rival leads to something Harry had been trying to avoid for a good bit. one-shot prequel to Another Onigiri in the Fruits Basket</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night That Everything Changed

_“You want this, don’t you?”_

 

It was raining.

Hard.

The raindrops coming down with no sign of stopping or letting up.

The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black sat silent in the storm on Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Not even a Doxie moved within the old structure. It was silent and just a tad bit intimidating to look at – except that no one could actually see it.

And that was just how the house’s only occupant liked it.

Somewhere in the house a large clock let out a chime.

Once, twice, seven time to the hour.

Harry Potter groaned and rolled over in his bed, reaching out to smack at an imaginary alarm clock before it registered in his sleep-ailed mind that the sound didn’t come from an alarm clock.

Rubbing at his eyes, the young savior let out a long sigh before pushing himself up out of bed. He looked around the room with bleary eyes before remembering his glasses and snatching them up. Moving slowly, he went through the motions of his morning routine.

It wasn’t until he had settled down at the worn table in the kitchen that he noticed the owl waiting for him.

Curious, he relieved the animal of its package and gave it some owl treats before perusing the letter. It was short and simple.

  
_Harry_   


  
_I know you don’t read the paper. So I’ll be the first to tell you: It’s May 2 nd. Ron and I will meet you at the usual place._   


_Hermione_

 

Harry’s mind went blank when he read the date.

Then slowly the pieces clicked into place.

With a low groan he crumpled up the letter and then dropped his head down onto the table.

Memories filled his head, images of people’s pale faces – all lined up in neat rows. Sounds clouded his thoughts as he remembered that day.

It was three years to the dot, and Harry still wasn’t over it.

“No,” Harry said out loud, breaking the silence that was a norm around him these days.

He ran his fingers through his hair and pushed the memories back into a box in the corner of his mind, where they belonged. He was determined not to think about it – about them.

Instead Harry turned his thoughts to Ron and Hermione.

He hadn’t seen them in a while, which was truly his own fault. But there wasn’t much he could do about it. It wasn’t like he could drop round the Weasley’s anymore.

The errant thought brought up another issue of Harry’s.

Ginny Weasley.

Harry scowled as he thought of the only female Weasley.

He had never gotten back together with her, something the girl seemed a little delusional about. You’d think after telling someone ‘no’ a countless number of times over the span of three years would do to discourage them – but no, not Ginny Weasley, she was persistent.

And Harry couldn’t tell her all of the reason why he couldn’t get back together with her, all he could tell her was that he was no longer in love with her – if he had ever been.

But the real reason was a hard kept secret, something he would try to keep to himself until the day he died if he had to.

The real reason . . . was because he was mated to Draco Malfoy.

Not by his choice either – no it was his damn heritage to be blamed.

He had found out when he had woken up after all the fighting was over three years ago.

It had started off with odd dreams of the sexual nature with another male – which had admittedly scared the willies out of Harry. After a long time of dealing with it – and a strange sense of longing – Harry had gone to his last resort.

The library.

It would have been simple to bring up the subject with Hermione, and it probably would have been faster, but something stopped Harry from telling anyone.

After almost two months of searching, Harry found the problem.

And it was completely by chance.

He hadn’t even been looking at the time; he had actually been trying to do some research for Mrs. Tonks to help her with Teddy.

But the fact that Harry found a page on some kind of creature that had similarities to him – well he always figured Fate had it out for him.

It turns out that Harry was a Nyx, a creature that was rumored to roam the Scottish plains. It normally took the form of a beautiful young woman said to have immense powers and extreme luck – both good and bad. Males were rare.

But that wasn’t what caught Harry’s attention – no, what did were the symptoms that the Nyx went through when they reached of age to search for their mates.

It started with dreams about the man – because it was always a male no matter the gender of the Nyx – and that was coupled with a sense of longing that would not let up until the mate was found. If not found within five years the Nyx was said to go crazy.

Lucky that Harry found his the next day.

And imagine his surprise when he stepped into the Auror’s office to watch the questioning of the Malfoys and locked eyes with Draco Malfoy and suddenly felt like the world had been turned right-side up even though he didn’t know that it was upside down before.

It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.

Harry just about had a mental break down – which he immerged from with a simple plan.

There was no way he could get together to Draco Malfoy of all people – screw what the Nyx in him said – it just wasn’t possible. So he was content to live his life as it was with the knowledge that he was Malfoy’s mate. Didn’t mean he was gay or that he was in love with the man. Just that he was bounded to him – and he could live with that.

He figured Fate could have dealt him a worse hand.

And the plan would have worked . . . had Malfoy not screwed it up – and Harry remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened only yesterday. 

* * *

 

Harry waited patiently outside of the heavy wooden doors, leaning against the cold, cobblestone walls. A stream of people exited the courtroom, the odd person stopping here or there to have a short chat with Harry – the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry dealt with it with a calm air of patience he would have never had a year ago. It was amazing how much a person could change in a year.

Just about everyone was gone now and finally the person – or rather people – he had been waiting for stepped out of the courtroom.

“Malfoy!”

Two blonde heads turned at his shout, piercing him with similar cold stares although one was blue and the other was silver.

Narcissa and Draco Malfoy both looked like they always had, pristine and composed and like they hadn't just gone through what was probably the tensest moment of their life.

“Mr. Potter,” Narcissa spoke first, tilting her head slightly and looking incredibly haughty. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably as he realized his mistake.

“Um . . . actually I wanted a word with your son,” Harry managed to get out without stuttering like an idiot. The Nyx inside him purred in anticipation but Harry pushed it back.

Narcissa regarded him with a cautious looked before nodding once. She patted her son on the arm then left in a swirl of her designer silvery blue robes.

A tense sort of silence filled the empty hall after the sound of Narcissa’s heels had vanished and Harry suddenly realized that this maybe hadn’t been the best move.

They were in the bottom of the Ministry of Magic, somewhere near the Department of Mysteries in a hall no one ever really traveled and there was no one around to hear if Malfoy decided to finally do him in.

Yet despite this worry Harry couldn’t summon up the need to feel all too worried.

“You saved me,” were the first words to exit Malfoy’s mouth and Harry started at the sudden sound.

He looked up to find Malfoy watching him with the same cautious look as his mother.

“Well . . . yeah,” Harry said rather pathetically, all the while cursing at himself in his mind.

“Why?”

Harry blinked.

“Why what?”

Now a familiar scowl found its way upon Malfoy’s face.

“Why’d you save me,” the aristocrat demanded.

“Why wouldn’t I save you,” Harry questioned back, sounding extremely confused.

“I don’t know,” Malfoy remarked, sarcasm coating his words thickly. “Maybe because you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Harry remarked blankly. “And I never did. Besides, no one deserved to die like that – and I’m sorry that Crabbe did.”

These words seemed to bring Malfoy up for his mouth dropped open a little before he managed to compose himself.

“Fine, I guess I can believe that from someone like you,” he finally said after a moment. “But I still don’t get why you helped us. Isn’t this what you wanted, to watch the Malfoy family rot in jail.”

Harry sighed.

“No, that’s not what I wanted,” he told his former rival. “I thought I did, but after watching what you went through, what your family went through . . . well we all knew Tom was a sick bastard.”

Malfoy didn’t seem to know what to say to this admission and Harry couldn’t blame him.

After a long while, Malfoy let out a long sigh.

“What do you want from me Potter?”

Harry’s heart thudded painfully in his chest for a reason that he did not want to identify. Cursing the Nyx in him to the deepest pit in hell, he looked down at the rough ground and said nothing – which did nothing to discourage Malfoy.

“Why did you call me back,” the blonde asked again, this time his voice sounding suspicious.

“No reason,” Harry stuttered out, still looking down.

The sound of Malfoy’s approach, however, had the teen looking up in panic, and he moved to back away until he remembered that he had stupidly been leaning against a wall.

Just his luck.

Malfoy was right in front of him now, and Harry attempted to move to the side and go around him when a pale arm stretched out to block his way. Harry tried moving the other way only to find his path block again. Swallowing thickly, the savior looked up – mildly annoyed that the blonde seemed to have grown taller than him.

Malfoy was smirking down at him, pinning Harry there with a pair of silver-grey eyes.

“Now, now, Potter, it does no one any good if you lie. You called me back and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just so that you could hear me say ‘thank you’.”

“That was a thank you,” Harry asked in a wild attempt to change the subject. “I didn’t notice. Maybe you could try that again.”

Malfoy’s smirk grew at these words and he chuckled lowly – a sound that caused a shiver to race up Harry’s spine.

“No changing the subject Harry,” the blonde practically purred.

The sound of his first name rolling off of the aristocrat’s tongue had Harry practically melting into a puddle on the ground.

“I . . . I don’t know . . . what you’re talking about,” Harry mumbled lowly, his mind somewhat foggy although he couldn’t explain why.

“I think you do.”

Malfoy was close now, leaning in so that his breath ghosted over Harry’s face.

Harry could feel the heat radiating off Malfoy’s skin – could smell the blonde’s scent. It was like mint and aftershave and coco.

Draco was staring at him curiously now, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Harry’s heart was pounding loudly, he was sure the blonde could hear it, if the smirk was anything to go by.

And then the blonde’s face changed.

An expression Harry had never seen before – at least on the blonde he’d never seen it – appeared on Draco’s face. Harry thought the blonde looked very beautiful when he wasn’t scowling.

Slowly, as if giving Harry an option, the blonde lifted his hand, cupping it around Harry’s cheek.

Harry drew in a shaky breath, trying desperately to clear his head and push back the Nyx’s influence – but he was finding that incredibly difficult as he stared mesmerize up into Draco’s eyes. Eyes that were now turning a smoky grey as they darkened with something Harry desperately didn’t want to indentify.

 _No, no, no! Remember the plan!_  Something inside Harry screamed but its voice was muted, coming from underwater.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, his face drawing all the while nearer to Harry and his breath – mint toothpaste – brushing over Harry’s face.

Harry’s eyes fluttered against his will and he let out a little sigh of submission before what he was doing crashed into him like a wave. Immediately his arms snapped out, landing on the blonde’s solid chest and pushing him back slightly.

“Stop,” Harry commanded – but while it had sounded strong in his head it came out weak and slightly reluctant.

“Stop please,” Harry tried again. “I . . . I can’t. I can’t do this.”

Draco shifted and for a moment Harry thought the blonde had finally gotten the clue, but instead of moving back Draco moved forward. His slim fingers trailed down the side of Harry’s smooth cheek as he pressed his lips against the savior’s ear.

A shiver ran, unchecked, down Harry’s spin and he tried – rather stupidly – to move back only to remember the wall that was placed there once more.

 _Damn, damn, damn!_  Harry’s mind screamed at him.

“Why,” Draco whispered seductively into Harry’s ear, running his tongue over the shell, which only served to entice a low moan from Harry. One of Harry’s hands reached back, splaying across the wall as he tried to find something to hold on to that wasn’t Draco.

“You want this, don’t you?”

“I . . . I . . .”

Harry’s stammered reply was lost when Draco suddenly leaned down and captured his lips.

It was sweet – like thick Honeydukes’ chocolate or sugarcoated quills – and it wasn’t at all what Harry expected kissing Draco Malfoy would be like. His lips were smooth and soft against Harry’s and they slid easily against his.

Harry moaned, practically melting against Draco, and the blonde wrapped one of his arms around Harry’s waist to pull him closer – and Harry let him.

“Harry,” Draco murmured against Harry’s lips like a whispered promise.

Harry hummed and lifted both arms around the blonde’s neck, pushing his hands into all that silky blonde hair as he strained up on his toes. His pressed his body flush against Draco’s, trying to get closer than ever in a sudden all consuming need he hadn’t been aware was in him.

Even though his rational mind was screaming at him to not ruin to the plan, trying to remind him to keep his distance, Harry’s body had stopped listening and if he was being truthful to himself he didn’t want to listen.

He was riding a wave of overwhelming bliss.

And then Draco bit down on Harry’s bottom lip and Harry let out a gasp opening his mouth for an attack from the blonde. Harry’s knees weakened and, had it not been for Draco’s arm around his waist, Harry was sure he would have crumpled to the floor. As it was, all he could do was cling desperately to Draco’s lean form as the aristocrat dominated the kiss.

Finally after what felt like a millennium and yet also a second, Draco pulled back, breathing heavily but smiling like he had won the Quidditch cup.

“You were saying,” the blonde questioned smugly, not sounding like he had just snogged the brains out of Harry.

“I . . . I don’t know,” Harry admitted breathlessly, his eyes glazed over. Still smirking, Draco pressed another kiss to Harry’s swollen lips before letting the teen go completely.

Harry immediately sank to the floor and watched as Draco turned and strutted away.

When the blonde was gone, Harry put his head in his hands and cursed lowly at both himself and the bloody Nyx inside of him. 

* * *

 

And damned if that whole bloody thing didn’t make Harry want the Malfoy more – but Harry had been sure to remain strong.

In fact, after that day he had seen Malfoy only twice in years that passed. And it had only been passing glances and annoying smirks when he did see the blonde.

Harry as proud to say that he had tight control over the Nyx now, no more hormonal impulses.

Not for him.

And the other stuff that came with being a Nyx was controllable at best, and actually kind of beneficial. Like being able to sense magical wards or being able to recognize a person from their magical residue without the need to cast a spell.

Yup, there were some definite perks.

The grandfather clock that occupied Number Twelve, although no one had been able to spot the damned thing, let out twelve long chimes, announcing the hour to be noon. Harry hadn’t even realized he had been sitting in the kitchen for that long.

Time seemed to flow around him like that all the time since the war was over. Slow then fast then slow again. It was inconsistent but Harry wasn’t bothered. It wasn’t like he had anything important to do.

With a weary sigh, Harry got up from the table.

If he sat here until the required time to meet up with Ron and Hermione he was likely to start thinking. And for him on this day, thinking wasn’t a good idea.

Thoughts led to memories with in turn led to feelings with always seemed to spiral down into depression and Harry was definitely  _not_ up to seeing another Mind Healer about depression.

He had had enough of that, thank you very much.

His mind made up Harry went out into the entrance hall and snatched up his traveling cloak before heading out into the constant rain that occupied London. 

* * *

 

“I really think you should stop!”

The music was so blaringly loud that Harry had a hard to discerning what Hermione had just shouted at him. As is was he didn’t frankly care what she was saying and chose to ignore her often wise words.

“Oh, Hermione, piss off. Harry’s grown, he can do as he pleases,” Ginny Weasley shouted back at the bushy haired girl across from her.

Harry chose to ignore her also.

He had a very good idea why Ginny was defending him and frankly, he was surprised the Weasley girl could be so Slytherin.

Harry gaze slid around the pub, taking in the ghostly figures dancing widely on what the pub owner so eloquently called a dance floor but was really just a small square of tile in the middle of the room. A busty woman over at the bar caught his gaze and winked suggestively at him.

Harry adverted his gaze and gulped down what remained of his tenth bottle of Firewhiskey. The amber liquid burned like fire down his throat, something he would never get used to but relished anyways.

“I really think you should slow down, mate,” Harry’s other best friend suddenly spoke up in the lull that followed a change in music.

“I’m fine,” Harry managed to get out; the words slurred only a little.

Harry scowled mentally when this registered with him. Of course the alcohol would affect his body but not his bloody mind.

“Exactly, he’s  _fine_ , Ron,” Ginny snapped at her brother and was helpful enough to call the bartender for another round for Harry.

“No, he’s not,” Hermione was the one to snap back, and Harry could practically feel the glare that she sent the younger girl.

“Hermione,” Harry complained when the girl went so far as to cancel the order for another bottle of Firewhiskey.

“Harry you need to stop this,” the brunette told him gently, moving closer to him so that he could hear her better. “This isn’t healthy behavior. Maybe you should go visit Healer Goldsting again? He was very helpful —”

“I don’t need to see no bloody Healer,” Harry retorted waspishly.

“Well you certainly do if you think getting drunk is going to solve your problems.”

“I’m not drunk.”

Hermione was giving him a reproachful look now, Harry could tell even if he couldn’t see it due to his foggy vision.

“Fine,” the Savior finally gave in. “I guess I’ll just go home.”

“We’ll take you,” Ron offered at the same time that Ginny demanded, “Why?” and grabbed at his arm.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry told Ron while shaking off Ginny’s grasping fingers. “I plan on walking anyways.”

And with that said the man bolted from the pub, and the annoyingly persistent Ginny whom Harry was sure was wishing to get laid that night.

The air outside was sharp and helped to clear some of the alcohol from Harry’s body, much to his displeasure. The rain had stopped a long time again, leaving London a shining nighttime mystery – with slick pavements and gleaming asphalt.

Harry set out at a clipped pace, settling his thoughts firmly on what was around him and mot on what this day meant. He was close enough to Wizarding London that a few people recognized him and offered words of either celebration or comfort.

Harry wished that they would all just leave him alone.

He didn’t want to think about what had happened on this day three years ago. He didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like, holding baby Teddy’s trembling body to his chest as he said his final goodbyes to Remus and Tonks.

Didn’t want to remember staring into the blazing eye of Dennis Creveey or watch the tears of Mrs. Creveey as he told them what happened to Colin.

Didn’t want to remember the empty gaze in George Weasley’s eyes as he twin, his other half was dropped into the ground.

And he certainly didn’t want to remember the look of Hogwarts, her walls crumbling and her fields stained red from blood and littered with bodies.

“Damn it,” Harry shouted out loud, his fist clenched tightly at his sides as the memories came unbidden into his mind.

He paused on the street side and tried to regain his bearings. Looking around he found that he wasn’t very far from Grimmauld Place, just a few more blocks.

Loud laughter drew his attention to a pub across the street. The sign,  _The Flying Phoenix_ , drew his attention, and curiosity peaked Harry headed over.

A bell jingled over his head as the door was pushed open and soothing music poured over him.

Harry was a little surprised at what he saw.

He was definitely in Muggle London now, and yet he could feel the throbbing wards that covered half of the building.

 _Is this a mixed pub,_  the man thought in wonder.

“Bless my soul, if it isn’t Harry Potter.”

The slightly familiar voice brought Harry’s gaze to the bartender, who Harry recognized with a start as being Susan Bones from Hufflepuff.

“Susan Bones?”

A laugh sounded from the right of Harry.

“Actually, its Macmillan now,” the former Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan told Harry while giving the man a hard pat on the back.

“Huh,” was all Harry could really think to say.

Ernie slapped him on the back again with another laugh before leading the teen Savior to the bar where he said that he could have anything he wanted, on the House, for this one night – and Harry accepted without a complaint. 

* * *

 

“Well, well, well . . . if it isn’t everyone’s favorite Golden Boy?”

The comment and the arm that slid all too casually over his shoulder had Harry’s back up, and if he had been in any other establishment, Harry just might have pulled his wand out. As it was, the Savior simply leveled the black Italian beside him with a heavy glare and shrugged off the lazing arm.

“Well someone seems to be it a terrible mood.”

“Fuck off Malfoy and take your sidekick with you,” was Harry’s short report as he settled for glaring at his glass of Firewhiskey. Inside he was cursing every deity known to man for putting him in this predicament.

Malfoy would happen to walk into the same pub as Harry when he was venerable and his senses were clouded.

“That’s not a very polite greeting, Potter,” Malfoy drawled.

“Well I’m not in a very polite mood, Malfoy,” Harry shot back and scowled when the blonde simply laughed. Did his voice have to slur so much?

“Well isn’t someone drunk,” Blaise commented from Harry’s right.

The two ex-Slytherins had come up on either side of him and Harry felt very much cornered.

“I’m not drunk,” Harry mumbled and waved his hand for another bottle – his seventh bottle since he entered the pub.

Susan looked skeptical but slid him the bottle anyways.

Unfortunately for him, Malfoy caught it and drained it in one smooth move.

“That was mine,” Harry told him, sounding a tiny bit petulant.

“Well I believe you’ve had enough,” Malfoy replied smoothly, cocking Harry a devilish smirk. Harry’s Nyx practically purred, which in turn made Harry scowl.

“Whatever. I’m going home.”

With that said, Harry pushed away from the bar and stood up swiftly. He would have tipped over had it not been for Malfoy’s restraining arms.

“You can barely stand,” the blonde commented dryly. “So how, exactly, were you planning on leaving?”

Harry pushed himself away from the blonde, trying to ignore the way his body seemed to burn from where Malfoy had touched him.

“I can manage.”

“Sure you can,” Malfoy muttered before turning to his friend. “I’m going to take this fool home. See you tomorrow?”

Blaise didn’t comment, just simply waved the two away and concentrated on his drink, something syrupy and high in alcohol.

Harry opened his mouth, a protest on his lips, but was unable to voice it when Malfoy turned on his heel and the two were pulled into a compressed space. The feeling of being pressed and stretched that usually accompanied Apparition, left as soon as it came and Harry teetered wobbly on his feet for a moment.

Malfoy’s hands were a warm heavy pressure on his shoulders and Harry was momentarily grateful until he looked around and realized that this was  _not_  his home – not that he expected Malfoy to know where that was, it was Unplottable after all.

“Careful there,” Malfoy cautioned, and guided Harry over to a leather couch.

Harry sank into it, peering around curiously and wondering if this was where the Malfoy had made his home.

“You can use my Floo after you’ve sobered.”

“I’m not drunk,” Harry found himself saying, almost automatic now.

Malfoy either didn’t hear of chose to ignore him.

“I’ll make you some coffee to speed the process.”

Harry rolled his eyes and let Malfoy putter around while he took in the room.

Harry had to grudgingly admit that Malfoy was living nice. Leather couches, a wide stone fireplace, glass ordinates that looked very much expensive and tasteful painting put here and there.

“I thought you lived with your parents,” Harry commented when Malfoy came back and shoved a hot mug into his hand. Harry sipped at the bitter liquid while he waited for an answer.

“I do, this is just one of my flats – for when I’d like to entertain away from home.”

Malfoy lifted a brow suggestively and Harry nearly sputtered into his coffee.

The Nyx was purring again inside of him.

“I should probably head on home now.”

Harry made a move toward the fireplace when Malfoy grabbed his arm.

“Now wait just one minute,” the blonde said calmly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Harry tugged at his arm but Malfoy did not release him. With a mental sigh, Harry relented for a moment, relaxing his shoulders just a little bit.

“About,” he questioned reluctantly.

“What happened at the Ministry all those years ago?”

Harry froze and cursed vehemently in his head. There was no point in denying it; he knew that Malfoy knew that he knew what he was talking about, as confounding as that sounded.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry finally said, cursing himself when he realized that he sounded annoyingly like a child.

“Yeah, well I do.”

Silence followed as Harry remained stubbornly silent. Malfoy still hadn’t let him go, so escaping was not an option.

Without so much as even a warning, Malfoy tugged on Harry’s arm, pulling the Savior down so that their faces were inches apart.

Harry found himself suddenly faced with those hypnotizing eyes. They were like liquid pools of silver and Harry was practically drowning in them.

His head spun dizzily and he realized he had stopped breathing. With great effort and concentration, Harry broke the gaze and drew in a ragged breath. His eyes were then drawn to Malfoy’s lips, which were dragged up into the familiar Malfoy smirk.

Harry watched, completely entranced, as Malfoy’s lips began to move, but he couldn’t hear what the blonde was saying. Already his mind was fogging with the lust and need of the Nyx, working much better than any alcoholic beverage could.

And then, although Harry wasn’t really all too sure what had possessed him to do it, he leaned in and captured the blonde’s lips.

Malfoy was unresponsive for a moment – completely understandable as Harry had taken him by surprise – and Harry sighed in disappointment and was about to pull away, when Malfoy’s hand curled around his neck and pulled Harry back in.

And they were kissing and it was just as wonderfully sweet and mind-blowing as the very first time.

Harry let out a small whimper and allowed the blonde aristocrat to pull him so close that Harry was now straddling his waist. And the Savior hadn’t realized how hard he had suddenly gotten until his groan pressed into Malfoy’s stomach and delicious shock shot through his body.

Harry gasped, breaking away from the kiss and dropping his head onto Malfoy’s shoulder. He was unconsciously rocking his hips against the blonde, whose fingers were now digging into Harry’s hipbone.

“Bloody hell,” Malfoy swore, his breathing as unsteady as Harry’s.

Harry turned his head and smirked against the blonde’s neck before nipping lightly at the pale expanse of skin. Malfoy’s breathing hitched and he let out a tiny little moan that Harry probably wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been so close.

“Potter,” Malfoy protested in a warning tone when Harry continued with his administrations.

With as small sigh full of regret, the Malfoy pushed Harry away. Harry made a small keening sound of protest that had Malfoy arching a brow questioningly.

“You’re obviously more hammered than I thought,” the blonde commented dryly as he maneuvered Harry off of his lap.

“No I’m not,” Harry protested with a pout and when the blonde let him go he attempted to move back to his original position.

“Obviously you are if you’re acting like this,” Malfoy said while thwarting Harry’s goal of climbing back into his lap.

“I’m not,” Harry continued to protest attempting once more before sitting back on his knees, his expression sullen.

The Nyx was clouding his mind and for once, Harry wasn’t all that keen to push it away. He just felt so . . .  _good_. His body was practically humming and he just wished Malfoy would just . . . just . . . just  _touch_  him!

“Malfoy,” Harry began, his tone approaching a whine. “ _Please?_  I just . . . I just want you so much.”

This said the Savior looked up at the blonde from under his lashes and practically melted.

Malfoy was looking at him like he was a delicious piece of chocolate – silver eyes darkened with lust. And this time, when Harry crawled into his lap, the blonde did not push him away.

Smiling now, Harry wound his arms around Malfoy’s neck, pushing his hands into all that soft blonde hair, and leaned in for a kiss. Malfoy took over this time, dominating the kiss like he had done so that time in the Ministry – and Harry let him.

Grounding his hips down, Harry let out a low moan that had the blonde growling lowly and attacking his lips. Harry moved hypnotically against him, straining for some kind of friction that would offer him some kind of release.

His crouch met Malfoy’s and Harry released his loudest moan so far. Almost desperate now, Harry ripped at Malfoy’s shirt, running his hands over the blonde’s chest and arching up into the mouth that was mapping out the skin of his neck.

The next thing he knew, Malfoy was throwing him back on a bed and he was missing a good part of his wardrobe – like his shirt and pants.

Malfoy laid out over him, heavy, but a welcomed heaviness. They were aligned almost perfectly, hip to hip, chest to chest – except Malfoy was taller. It was pure bliss, and Harry – well rather the Nyx but he wasn’t really keeping it separate right now – wanted more.

Malfoy moved sensuously against him. Trailing kisses over his skin and leaving burning marks. A small part of Harry could actually pretend that Malfoy was a lover and that he wasn’t being controlled by his creature side – the rest of him was just in it for the feeling.

A small sharp pain had Harry gasping, his mind clearing for but just a second as his eyes focused on the blonde hovering over him.

Malfoy’s hair was tousled and his lips were red and Harry had never imagined a more sexual sight. Malfoy moved a little bit, and Harry suddenly focused in on the length pressed against him. Harry’s whole body flushed and he wished that Malfoy would  _move_.

“You ready,” Malfoy asked him in a husky voice. “I won’t do it unless you want to.”

Harry paused for a moment and then almost laughed when the blonde’s words registered in his sex-ailed mind. Malfoy was, dare he say it, acting like a Hufflepuff, not that the Savior minded.

With a Slytherin-like smirk creeping onto his face, Harry whispered, “I’m always ready.”

With a returning smirk, Malfoy pushed in and Harry’s whole world exploded into something new. The blonde was suddenly inside of him and Harry had never felt so complete before. He had never even realized he was empty until that moment when he was suddenly full – and it was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Why had he avoided this before? He couldn’t even remember. All he could think about was the blonde pushing in and out of him and that there was no better place that he would rather be.

And then it was over, the world ending in a flash of white light and bright stars.

Malfoy pulled out of him and Harry curled up next to his side, suddenly overcome with exhaustion – all the while thinking that he would never be the same again.


End file.
